


paternal

by kipcoded



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gen, the rest of the phantom thieves briefly appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 06:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11640459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipcoded/pseuds/kipcoded
Summary: The flu season strikes Akira hard. Sojiro looks after him the best that he can.(Family fic. LeBlanc family love, basically.)





	paternal

**Author's Note:**

> So I finished P5 last night! I loved it and pretty much all the characters, but somehow Sojiro made his way into a special place in my heart. The way he warmed up to Akira throughout the story was really heartwarming, so I thought I would write a sweet, short little fic centered around him and Akira. 
> 
> !!! I would like to mention there is a very brief, non-descriptive mention of vomiting in this story. If you're super emetophobic, just be aware !!!

Tonight, Akira was beginning to realize, was going to be a sleepless night.

He’d been lying down trying to sleep for about an hour now, but had been having no success thanks to a painful cough and accompanying aching chest that seemed to have just cropped up from out of nowhere. 

He’d felt unusually heavy and had a slight tickle in his throat earlier in the evening, but he’d brushed it off and gone about his way. He’d only started to feel actually ill shortly after Sojiro went home.

Now, he’s lying on his stomach, trying to cough into his pillow.

He’d heard about the flu outbreak that was going around, but hadn’t paid it much mind. It’d been years since he’d truly gotten sick, and as a result, things like that were never his concern. But now, he was beginning to wonder if he should have paid more attention and taken more precautions.

He shivered, hacking into his pillow with force. He wished he had about 10 more blankets.

“Hey, what’s the matter with you?” Morgana grumbled. “You’re being so noisy, I can’t sleep…”

“Sorry,” Akira mumbled. He coughed a few more times.

The coughing quieted for a bit, and Akira had begun to finally fall asleep when it started up again. It seemed Morgana was just sleeping through it now. He stifled the coughing in his pillow, his head aching with the force of the coughs.

It was going to be a long night.

…

Hours passed, and Akira hadn’t managed to get more than a few minutes of sleep at a time here and there, being awoken by harsh coughing fits. If that wasn’t bad enough, his shivering had increased tenfold, and the headache was only worsening. He laid miserably, breathing laboriously through his mouth since his nose had become stuffy, which only irritated the coughing further. He felt really terrible, and there was no longer any doubt in his mind: he was sick.

His sense of time was becoming very skewed. He couldn’t fall asleep, but he could fall into strange, uncomfortable half-sleep trances for what seemed like long periods of time, broken up only by violent coughing fits.

Eventually, the sun began streaming in from under his window shades, and he realized he’d legitimately been up all night coughing. He could hear his own wheezing now, and wished he had something to drink. His throat hurt.

“Ugh, you coughed all night,” Morgana groaned. “How are you going to function at school today?”

Akira gave a quiet groan in lieu of a response. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of facing school in his condition.

The coughing fits carried on throughout the morning, and eventually he fell back into his uncomfortable half-sleep trance, shivering all the while and coughing every couple minutes.

He awoke more fully when he heard the door open downstairs. Generally, that was his cue to get out of bed and dress for school, but he didn’t have the stamina to even sit up. He stayed put, listening to Sojiro move around downstairs until he began coughing when a particularly nasty fit overtook him.

“Hey, you alright, kid?” Sojiro asked as he entered the attic. Akira hadn’t even heard him coming up the stairs through his coughing. “You sound terrible.”

He watched, exhausted, as Sojiro walks over to him and looks at him with furrowed eyebrows, and feels his forehead. He sighs.

“...Yeah, you’re running a fever. No surprise, with that cough you’ve got,” He said. Akira felt like he was underwater or something. Sojiro sounded far away, and he felt freezing, and as if his lungs were filled with fluid.

“Have you had that cough all night?” He asks, looking concerned.

Akira nodded. “...Couldn’t sleep,” He whispered.

“Wait, you were up all night? Why didn’t you call me? If I’d have known, I would have brought you some medicine, kid...geez,” Sojiro sighs. “I’m going to run get you some cough syrup and something to help get that fever down. I’ll be back in just a little bit.”

Akira nods, coughing into his elbow, face screwed up in pain. Sojiro winces at the sound; his cough sounds alarmingly wet and painful. He gasps for breath when the fit finally ends, wheezing desperately. 

“Just hang in there, okay? I’ll be quick with getting that medicine,” He says. “Think you can remain alive while I’m out?”

Akira nods slightly, shivering and nestling himself further down into his blanket. Sojiro goes to the corner to a stray box and opens it, pulling out an extra blanket, and shaking it out over Akira.

“Be back soon.”

With that, Sojiro was gone. Akira spends around 20 minutes alone, alternating between coughing and trying to catch his breath when he wasn’t.

“You’re sick, huh? That’s no good…” Morgana says. “Let me know if I can do anything to help, okay? Sorry I was complaining about your coughing…”

Akira just nods, unable to summon the strength to say or do anything else.

Soon, Sojiro returns as promised with a bag full of supplies, and is seated on the edge of the mattress next to him. He’s holding a thermometer.

“I need to take your temperature first, then I’ll give you your medicine. Open up.” He says.

Akira obeys, and allows his caregiver to take his temperature. It beeps quickly, and Sojiro reads it, humming unhappily to himself.

“39.7 degree fever. If you didn’t have my blessing to miss school today already, you certainly do now,” He says, sighing. “I think you have the flu.”

Soon, he’s pouring cough syrup into a small measuring cup. “Can you sit up?” He asks.

Akira uses what tiny amounts of strength he has to try, managing only to slide himself up so he’s propped against the wall slightly. Sojiro puts the medicine down and stands, putting his arms under his shoulders to pull him up a bit more fully, and pulls his pillow to go between his back and the wall.

A coughing fit is triggered by the change in position, and Sojiro waits, watching sympathetically until it passes. When it does, he’s handed a tiny cupful of syrup.

“It won’t taste good, but it should quiet that cough down,” Sojiro explains. Akira weakly takes the medicine cup and tosses the syrup back, making a face at the taste of it.

“I know,” Sojiro chuckles, taking the now-empty medicine cup. He lays pills on his hand and holds a water bottle out to him. “Here, now take these and have a few sips of water. They’ll make you feel better, but they’re going to make you sleepy.”

Akira does as he’s instructed, following the pills with a few small gulps of water. He winces at the pain of swallowing, but manages anyway. Sojiro helps him lie back down, and lays another blanket over him.

Akira can feel the medicines kicking in already, his eyelids growing heavy now that he was more comfortable.

“Alright. You get some sleep, kid. Goodnight,” Akira hears Sojiro say, but he’s too exhausted to reply. Morgana curls against his side, and he’s grateful for his warmth. He lets himself fall into desperately needed sleep.

…

Sojiro is cleaning dishes when the door opens with a jingle later that afternoon.

“Welco- Oh,” Sojiro says, stopping mid-sentence when he realizes Akira’s school friends have arrived, along with Yusuke and Futaba. “Hey, everyone.”

“Hi Boss!” Ann says, cheerfully.

“Hey Boss, Akira here?” Ryuji asks. “He wasn’t at school, so…”

“Yes, and he failed to answer our messages inquiring as to his whereabouts,” Yusuke adds.

Sojiro chuckles. He’s impressed that a delinquent kid had managed to make such a devoted group of friends in such a short period of time.

“He’s here, yes,” He replies, setting the mug he was drying down. “He’s in bed with a fever, though. Pretty sure he has the flu.”

“Oh, no…” Futaba says. “Poor Joker. He should use a healing item, huh?”

“Has he been doing alright today? Is he showing signs of improvement?” Makoto asks, concerned. 

“Don’t worry. I gave him medicine, and he’s been asleep since this morning. Still has a fever though, so you kids probably shouldn’t hang around here too long. Brat probably went and tracked his germs all through my cafe.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything we could do to help?” Haru asks.

Sojiro is about to answer when, almost as if on cue, Akira begins coughing from upstairs. He’d been coughing occasionally throughout the day, but this sounded much more like the nasty fits he’d been having this morning.

“Oh man, he really does sounds bad,” Ryuji says. Everyone’s eyes had gone towards the staircase to the attic, looking concerned.

“I think he just woke up,” Sojiro says. He looks at his clock. “He’s due for another dose of medicine anyway.”

“Are you certain there is nothing we could do to help?” Yusuke asks.

“Yeah. He mostly just wants to sleep, anyway. I’ll let him know you all came by, though. I’m sure that’ll lift his spirits,” Sojiro said, as he began to get out Akira’s medicine.

“Okee-doke, let us know how his recovery progresses, Sojiro!” Futaba called out. Everyone gave similar sentiments before they all left.

Akira continued miserably coughing upstairs, and Sojiro quickened his pace getting things together to soothe Akira’s distress.

He made his way up the stairs, finding Akira laying on his side, blankets up to his chin, cheeks flushed and eyes unfocused as he miserably coughed into his sleeve. The poor kid. He really looked awful.

“Hey. Time for another dose, alright?” He asks once the coughing tapers off, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress. He sets the tray he’d brought down in his lap. He notices the cat looks alert and concerned.

“Time’s it?” Akira rasps, looking at Sojiro through heavily lidded eyes.

“Oh, uh, about three PM now. You slept for awhile,” Sojiro answers. “Y’know, your friends were worried that you missed school. They dropped by.”

“Oh…” Akira breathed, still obviously disoriented and confused.

“Can you sit up?” Sojiro asks.

Akira slowly adjusts himself so that his arms are underneath him, and pushes himself up on his elbows, obviously struggling with the simple task. He manages, though, to get himself mostly upright.

Sojiro passes him a medicine cup full of cough syrup, and he takes it, again grimacing slightly at the taste.

“Drink some water, alright?” Sojiro holds out a cup of water with a straw, and puts it near Akira’s mouth. He hesitantly accepts, and takes a couple small sips before leaning back.

“Are you hungry?” Sojiro asks. “I was going to make some soup for you - nice and easy to eat and digest. How about it?”

Akira weakly shakes his head. “Not hungry…” He whispers. “...My stomach hurts.”

“Your stomach hurts?” Sojiro asks, sympathetic. “Hm...do you think some ginger tea would help?”

Akira shook his head. His breathing sounded slightly erratic, and he was swallowing a lot. His body language was very telling.

“Think you’re gonna throw up?” Sojiro asked urgently, moving the tray to the floor nearby and standing up.

Akira quickly nods, his eyes tight together, swallowing hard.

“Okay, it’s alright, come on,” Sojiro says, moving quickly. He puts his arms under Akira’s shoulders and pulls him off the bed, keeping an arm around his back to support him as he briskly walks him over to and down the stairs. Akira holds on to Sojiro’s shoulder with one hand, keeping the other over his mouth.

Sojiro is extremely thankful there’s no one else in the cafe right then. He pulls the bathroom door open and Akira stumbles inside, falling to his knees in front of the toilet and getting sick.

Sojiro averts his eyes, wincing at the sound. He feels terrible for the poor kid. All the shit he’s had to go through and the stress he’s always under - adding illness onto all of that seemed like an unfair bestowing from the universe.

Akira throws up a few times before coughing, wiping his eyes, and weakly reaching up to flush the toilet.

“I’m so sorry...ugh...I’m...so sorry…” He whispers, and Sojiro’s heart hurts at the way his cool façade is cracking for the first time since he’s known him.

“Hey...there’s no need to apologize, kid,” Sojiro says, doing his damndest to be comforting. He reaches under the sink and retrieves a washcloth, and wets it with cold water under the tap. He wrings it out, and offers it out to him. “Here, wipe your face down. Take some deep breaths.”

“...Thank you,” He breathes, accepting the cloth. He does as Sojiro instructed, and feels a little better.

Sojiro lays the washcloth over the sink once he’s done, and helps the kid up off the ground. He’s helping him back up the stairs when he erupts into another coughing fit, having to stop halfway up the staircase. Sojiro pats his back, feeling overly paternal, and practically drags him back up and to his bed once it subsides.

Akira lies down onto it, shivering. Sojiro wastes no time covering him up with blankets.

“You’re going to need to take your cough medicine again, since what you took earlier came back up. We’ll do that later, once your stomach settles,” He says, and grabs the thermometer. “For now, let me just take your temperature, alright?”

Akira nods, eyes closing. He opens his mouth and accepts the thermometer when it’s put in.

They wait in silence for a moment until the beep of the thermometer indicates the reading is ready.

“Good lord…” Sojiro breathes. The reading shows 40.1 now, and he has to admit he feels nervous at the severity of his fever. He’d dealt with Futaba getting colds here and there, but she’d never gotten anything worse than sniffles and a low-grade fever. Whatever Akira had seemed to be an entirely different beast.

The cat meows worriedly in both Akira and Sojiro’s direction, but Akira seems too incapacitated to form any sort of response to whatever he’s trying to get across.

“Try to take a little nap, alright?” Sojiro suggests. “I’ll bring you your medicine later.” 

Akira nods, punctuated by a harsh few coughs. He curls up, and lets himself rest.

…

Sojiro ends up deciding he may as well close up shop for the day. Akira’s coughing from upstairs doesn’t exactly make for the best cafe atmosphere, and he needs his attention more than the cafe does anyway.

He allows him about an hour to rest before going back up, rousing him from his doze, and administering another dose of cough medicine, along with a fever reducer and a few sips of a sports drink he’d had in the fridge.

Akira seems drained, uncomfortable, and listless. He finishes taking his medicine and weakly lies back down on his stomach next to Morgana, shivering.

Sojiro sighs and lays a hand on his back, overheated even through the blankets, and moves it up and down, in an effort to provide some comfort. He feels a bit weird doing it - it seems very paternal somehow. He looks down fondly at the kid.

When he’d decided to take in this supposed ‘delinquent’, he’d expected an entirely different outcome. He’d imagined the kid would be rebellious and withdrawn from him, and he’d have to take on the disciplinarian role. He had decided from the beginning he wouldn’t let him anywhere near Futaba, and he would work in the cafe to maintain his keep. He’d never have guessed that the kid he was getting would be polite, bespectacled, quiet, and love cats. He’d have never guessed that this kid would be the key to helping Futaba - to helping him.

He’d never imagined he’d come to care so much about this kid. He thought of him like a son - in almost the same way he thought of Futaba as a daughter. He’d always liked the idea of having two kids, anyway - a son and a daughter. It had always seemed perfect to him.

When he was honest with himself, he didn’t much like the fact that in a few short months he’d be going back home. The cafe would feel awfully empty without him.

Soon, the deepness of Akira’s breathing indicated that he’d been lulled to sleep. Sojiro stood, taking his leave, and headed downstairs.

…

“Sojiroooo,” came Futaba’s voice as the bell jingled and she walked in the cafe that evening.

“Hey, Futaba. Good to see you,” Sojiro replies, poking his head out from the kitchen.

She makes her way over to her usual barstool and perches on it.

“I hunger, Sojiro. You must feed!” she exclaims. “By the way, how’s Akira? Still feeling all icky and stuff?”

“Afraid so. He’s sleeping, so try not to be too loud.”

“Has he been asleep all day? That’s, like, on my level,” she jokes, smiling.

“Well, he was up coughing all last night,” He reminds. “And he was awake right after you all left, but the poor kid started throwing up, which just exhausted him all over again.”

“Oh no! That’s the worst! Poor Akira!” she cried, poking her lip out in an exaggerated pout and looking toward the stairs.

“Yeah,” Sojiro agrees. “Anyways, no curry tonight. Sorry, kid. I’m making some soup that I’m hoping I can get that boy to eat. You’re welcome to have some, I made enough for all of us.”

“Okay!” Futaba agrees. “I guess I eat curry all the time anyway. Not that I ever get sick of it, though.”

“You’re my kinda kid,” Sojiro chuckles. He takes a bowl and fills it with soup. He passes a bowl with a spoon to Futaba, and gets her a glass of water. He fills another bowl, and grabs the sports drink bottle from out of the fridge, and heads towards the stairs. 

“I’ll be right back. I’m going to see if I can coax him into eating anything.”

“Okay!” Futaba says, and begins digging into her own bowl. Sojiro climbs the stairs into the dimly lit attic.

Akira is lying on his side with his knees curled up towards his chest, his arms wedged in the space between his torso and his legs. Sojiro can’t imagine how that position is comfortable. He’s securely wrapped in his blanket, though, and fast asleep, so he figures it must be to him. He feels bad waking him when he looks so peacefully at rest. He places the bowl, spoon, and bottle on an empty space on the nearby shelf, and sits on the edge of the mattress.

“Akira…” He murmurs, gently shaking his shoulder. “Akira...come on, wake up.”

The cat wakes first, and joins Sojiro in his effort, meowing pointedly. It takes a minute, but finally, Akira groans, eyes opening slightly. He makes an inquisitive noise.

“Hey. I have some soup for you to eat, okay? Just need you to sit up.”

Akira slowly rolls to lie on his back, coughing a couple times.

“Need help?” Sojiro offers.

Akira shakes his head. He painstakingly pushes himself up on his elbows. Sojiro puts his pillow against the wall behind him so he can lean on it, and soon he’s propped upright.

“Here,” Sojiro says, and reaches up to grab the bowl of soup. “It’s chicken soup with some rice and vegetables. Should be pretty easy on your stomach.”

Akira nods, reaching to take the spoon. His hand and arm shake with weakness as he tries to spoon up a bite.

“Haha, here, I’ll get it,” Sojiro said with a chuckle. “Just don’t tell anyone. Be embarrassing for both of us.”

Sojiro takes the spoon and fills it with soup, and brings it to Akira’s mouth. He accepts the bite, and chews slowly, swallowing.

“Mmm,” He sighs. “It’s good.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Sojiro says. He continues feeding him for awhile, feeling a little stupid doing so. He’s just glad Akira is eating and seems a little less lifeless than earlier.

Akira manages about half of the bowl of soup, and Sojiro is impressed. He was half expecting him to either turn it down altogether or only take a bite or two before giving up. He’s still too weak and sick to eat much, but he’s pleased.

“Here, drink a few sips,” Sojiro says, holding out the sports drink. “Gotta rehydrate since you threw up earlier.”

Akira obliges and takes a couple sips. He still feels pretty bad, but having warm soup in his stomach makes him feel better somehow.

“Knock knock!” comes Futaba’s voice as she makes her way into the attic. “Aw, you look so sick and miserable! At least Mona is keeping you company. Poor Akira!”

“Poor me,” He weakly responds, managing a small smile. Morgana meows in response to both of them.

“I think you’ll survive,” Sojiro says with a smirk. He pushes his hair aside to feel his forehead. “Still got that fever though. Think you’re gonna have to come sleep at my house tonight.”

“Huh?” Akira asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I can’t leave you in this poorly heated attic by yourself overnight when you’re sick. I need to keep an eye on you anyway, and I think that would probably classify as some form of negligence. I have an extra futon you can sleep on at the house.”

“...’Kay,” Akira mumbles. He’s starting to feel dizzy from being upright.

“Lie down for now,” Sojiro says. “I’ll pull the car over later tonight and drive you over. Little far for you to walk in your condition.”

“Yeah, you’re basically like a giant helpless baby right now!” Futaba adds.

“Thanks,” Akira replies, curling back up on his side.

“Anytime!”

“Well, don’t worry, kid. Futaba and I will look out for you and get you back on your feet as soon as possible.”

Akira smiled.

“Thank you,” He murmurs, beginning to drift off to sleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT, ADDED NOTE: someone pointed out that there are tense changes from the beginning of this fic to the end. that is intentional :) also, i write purely for fun when my busy work/life schedule allows, so i'm not extremely concerned about my work being 100% perfect. i hope you understand and enjoy regardless! thank you all for reading.


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